Tears
by Tic-Tac2
Summary: (One-shot fic - Or, should I say, two-shot) Hurt and frightened, Lizzie seeks comfort in the most obvious of places. LG to the end of time! Woohoo! Please R&R!
1. Tears of Fabric

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone or anything to do with Lizzie McGuire, Disney, or any other strange thing you guys can come up with. If I owned Disney, I would be basking in Hawaii's warm, tropical sun drinking pina coladas… every once in a while counting my money… ah, the life. But, alas, I do not live a fantasy. *grins* But I *do* write fanfiction! Isn't that good enough? … No? Oh.

Pointless, adored fluff is good. Awesome. But, today, I feel like I need to express some sense of angst in this story. As hard as we try, life isn't perfect, and it never will be. I dedicate this story to a young man. 11 was his age, and I never knew him personally, but now, I wish I had at least said hello. Only a few days ago, he drowned in a local pool. I was devastated when I heard, especially because he had no siblings. He was the most important person in the world to his parents, and he passed away. Quickly. Too quickly. Please take the time to say a little prayer for this young man.

Don't _ever _take your life for granted.

And now, I give you, "Tears"!

-**Tears**-

Elizabeth McGuire backed against the wall, feeling the cold, hard concrete beneath her fingertips. Her breathing was labored, sucked through her throat in short, gasping breaths. Her blonde hair, usually styled perfectly to her liking, was sweaty and grimy, plastered to her head in an unattractive tangle. A few stray strands fell across her face.

Lizzie slid along the wall as quietly as she possibly could, flinching each time her heart skipped a nervous beat. Every skid of her shoe, or skip of rock was like a blow to her eardrums, deafening her. Involuntarily, she grabbed her arm as it gave another painful throb. It was twisted at a strange - almost eerie - angle and her shadowed figure was obviously distorted in the sinister ambiance.

The beautiful cerulean dress she had worn was ruined. Tainted not just by blood, but also by dread and betrayal. Lizzie would never wear it again. Nor would she trust anyone again.

As soon as she reached the door of the shack, she pulled. It was locked, but Lizzie, with difficulty, began to rip away at the rotting wood with her freshly manicured nails. Bits and pieces of the timber fluttered and fell to the ground. Lizzie dug into the door and pulled. Soon, she reached through the crack, and bent her hand at an odd angle. Groaning in pain, she groped her hand until she found the knob. With her last amount of strength, Lizzie twisted and pulled. To her incredible relief, the door creaked open, and Lizzie tumbled into the night.

She ran as far away from the confining hellhole as possible. Past the park, past the fountain… Then, with her last amount of strength, she stumbled across a cobblestone alleyway to the garden. There she laid and cried, her tears flowing over the bloody fingernail scratches that were etched angrily into her cheeks.

She didn't want this to happen… she had never thought…

Lizzie wrapped herself into a protective ball and held her knees. Her shoulders were shaking, and her evidently broken arm was pumping a fresh batch of pain each time her heart beat. In her hands was clenched a single red rose.

The thorns that plunged into her skin felt numbed by the fear of discovery.

It didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

Lizzie cried silently and steadily, and soon, the droplets of tears and blood ran along her face as one.

She pulled herself forward, and shook. The harsh, bitter wind paid no heed to her troubles, and nipped relentlessly at her torn cheeks. It blew around her, suffocating her, and Lizzie couldn't do anything to stop it. It was just there. It existed. No more, no less. But, Lizzie hated it. It was cold and uncaring, just like the rest of the world.

Soon she found herself resting her head on a jagged stone, watching the beautiful daffodils sway back and forth. _They _were alive. _They _were presented with good fortune. Lizzie reached out her trembling hand. So close.

So far away.

She closed her eyes. This was it. No more pain. No more sorrow.

Engulfed in pure darkness, Lizzie relaxed her sore, deeply wounded body.

This is it…

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David Gordon paced his parent's living room, occasionally glancing furtively up at the clock.

She was supposed to call an hour ago.

He made up easily usable excuses. Her date went late… she got stuck in traffic… Matt was on the phone… 

He sat quickly, and twiddled his thumbs. All of those were practical reasons; why was he so uptight? He should have been happy for his best friend of seventeen years. But no, Gordo was not.

He despised Bryan. Almost as much at he despised that jerk Ronnie, who dumped her in eighth grade. Gordo knew it was stupid and egotistical, but he had asked Lizzie after each and every date to call and talk to him. Her response was always the same. "Sure Gordo, but why?" He had laughed easily, but inside, he was burning with hatred. He never answered her, for fear she would hear the quiver of anxiety in his voice, or the way his voice deepened with a passionate urge to protect her. Gordo hated himself for it. He hated his lust.

Roberta Gordon looked up from her cup of coffee. "David?" She frowned when Gordo did not answer her. "David! What's wrong with you? You're shaking!"

Gordo looked down at himself and furrowed his brow. Indeed, he was. "Mom… I –," He lowered his head and grumbled, "Too much caffeine."

She smirked. "Caffeine isn't good for you, son – especially at your age." She traced the rim of the mug with her index finger. "It'll stunt your growth."

"As if that hasn't already happened!" Gordo shot back tersely. He was used to his parent's occasional attempt at a joke. To be sure, he was glad that they finally developed somewhat of a sense of humor, but usually, the joke was disguised as a hurtful comment about his height. Even if they _had _finally ignored the fact that he was _short, _and it wouldn't change, most of their jokes were sarcastic and crude. And, as much as it hurt Gordo to think this, his parents were never very supportive or caring, so it didn't change their relationship in the least. Truth be told, Gordo had a healthier bond with the McGuire's than he did his own parents.

And Lizzie. He had a healthy relationship with Lizzie.

Gordo glared at his father's brown leather jacket. "Mom, I'm going out." Unexpectedly, he turned to Roberta. She narrowed her eyes.

"David, you are not going anywhere. It's almost eleven o'clock; your father will be home from his meeting in fifteen minutes."

Gordo put his hand on the doorknob. "Tell him I'll be home soon. Bye."

Before Roberta could say another word, her son threw open the door, walked into the blustery night, and let it slam behind him. She closed her eyes. His words stung like a bee. She slowly moved her hand to rest on top of the steaming coffee. She could feel the warmth of the liquid beneath her fingers.

Outside, Gordo clambered, with difficulty, into his old Toyota pickup truck. It wasn't much really ("A pile of junk," Miranda often told him). The once-green paint was peeling, one of the taillights was smashed in, and the fender was rusting in more places than one. But it was his, and he loved it like a newly born child.

He took his car keys out of his back pocket and thrust them into the ignition. The truck gave a few sputtering gasps, slowly - but surely - warming up. Gordo patted the dashboard tensely.

"C'mon baby, c'mon," he hissed through his teeth. The truck gave one final stammer, hummed, and roared into gear. Quicker than lightning, Gordo slung his arm over the seat and looked behind him. No one in sight.

He backed out of the driveway, and sped down the road, mumbling profanities under his breath.

Frantically, he drove to Oakwood Gardens. Of course he knew where they Bryan and Lizzie had planned to go. She told him everything, down to the waffles she had for breakfast, or the unnecessary CD she had bought at the local store for fifty percent off. Nothing went by unnoticed. The older Gordo got, the more interested he had become in learning everything about her day. It sounded boring to the average person, but to Gordo, her day was both exciting and fascinating. Each time he would ask, Lizzie would smile appreciatively and tell her stories; voicing her worries and woes, expressing her happiness in hand motions and smiles. And after each "interrogation session", as Lizzie so affectionately called it, she would laugh and say, "We sound like a married couple, don't we?"

She couldn't even begin to imagine how much that sentence meant to him.

Gordo finally arrived at the dusky, dreary, late night garden, and parked. The chilly wind bit into his arms and face unremittingly, and soon, he was wishing he had enough sense to bring a jacket. The reasonable side of his brain prudently stated that he wasn't going to be here long anyways, so it wouldn't matter, but the other side – the rebelliously protective, Lizzie-obsessed area – stubbornly hissed that it _would _matter, because he was going to stay at this damned park until he made sure Lizzie was safe. 

Crossing his arms against the cold, Gordo began to tread down the cobblestone path towards a little restaurant called "The Green Garden". He pushed through the large swinging door, and a decorative bell sent a chiming welcome in his wake.

Obsessively, Gordo searched throughout the restaurant for Bryan and Lizzie. But the only teenage couple at hand was kissing intensely, leaning over the table. The two people surely weren't them. Raising his eyebrows, a little afraid of being drenched by saliva, Gordo walked out of the restaurant disappointedly.

_At least if she _were_ there_, Gordo thought, glaring at his untied shoes, _I would feel better._

Gordo bit his lip. This was stupid. He should be home, resting his feet on the footrest, and listening to his father blab on and on about his work progress. He shouldn't be carrying out a one-man search party for a friend that was probably no more lost than him.

He kicked at the dirt in front of him. For a split second, he considered driving to Lizzie's house and searching for her there. But, a nagging feeling at the back of his mind pulled him forward through the park.

Gordo hunted all the way around the park, gaining reassurance from each step.

She wasn't here. She was home.

Matt was hogging the phone.

It was that simple.

Defeated by his inner thoughts, Gordo began to trudge - humiliated by his conscience - back to his truck. In the moonlight, he could see around the park. With his hand on the rusty car door, his eyes swept over the flower garden. For a second, his eyes lingered there, squinting in concentration.

A black shape was huddled in the rose patch. 

Gordo hesitantly moved towards it, bracing himself to run back to his truck. It could be anything. A wild animal, a misplaced stump… Gordo tilted his head and moved forward, trying to see what it was. He didn't even know if it was even breathing or not.

Taking a deep breath, Gordo stared at the shape in front of him, and moved closer so that he was within ten feet of it. As his eyes swept over the shape, he noticed a thick strand of blonde hair protruding from what he assumed, was the head. Gordo felt his heart clench in worry. He rushed forward unfalteringly and knelt down by the figure, his breathing raspy and forced. Gently, he turned the body over.

He felt as if all the air was squeezed from his lungs.

"Liz? Lizzie? Lizzie!" Hot tears stung the corners of his eyes. "Oh-my-God… damn. Damn! What happened to you?" He moved one of his shaking fingers to her temple. There was a pulse; weak and faint, yet it was the only thing binding her to life.

With a small groan, Gordo carefully rolled Lizzie onto her back. Blood was seeping through her dress: most likely from the scratches that were imprinted all over her body. Gordo brushed her hair from her forehead and leaned over her. He noticed that she seemed to have no blow to the head, but she had probably fainted from excessive exhausted and blood loss. Frustrated and confused, Gordo looked around, desperately crying for help. He was afraid to move her anywhere, lest he make the damage worse. But, alas, no one was in sight.

"Oh, God…" he whispered frantically, his eyes becoming bloodshot from the roaring wind, "Oh God…"

He leaned over her once more, trying to do something, but not sure what exactly to do. His arm pressed down on hers, and suddenly, the girl underneath him let out a pained shriek, and began to cry. Gordo, startled, felt himself flinch.

"Get away from me!" she yelled, hiding her face and shaking in terror. "Get away!"

Gordo immediately jumped back, and stared at his frightened best friend. She was waving her one good arm, and slowly backing up. She let out a scream as she tried to place pressure on her broken arm. Suddenly, she grabbed at her dress, and broke into tears. Gordo reached out a hand to touch her, but thought better of it, and withdrew.

"Lizzie…" he managed to gasp, "It's me, Gordo."

Slowly, reluctantly, Lizzie peered at him, still partially hiding underneath her arm. "G-Gordo?" she asked.

The look on her face was like a sledgehammer to the heart.

"Liz… it's me, Gordo. Your friend," he explained carefully. Lizzie began to back away from him again.

"Leave me alone!" she cried, huddling into a protective ball at the end of the flower patch. Gordo just stayed where he was, confused and filled with apprehensive terror. His eyes were stinging with unshed tears.

Lizzie seemed to be having inner difficulties as well. Silent tears ran down her face.

"Lizzie?" Gordo choked, "Listen, I know you're upset. I am too. But you can trust me…" He was pleading with his eyes. "You know that, right?" Lizzie's eyes, wide with fear, filled with drops of tears.

"No," said Lizzie with obvious difficulty, "No, I can't trust you."

Gordo felt as if the life had been sucked out of him. His eyes were filled with an incredible sadness. Right then, he would've done anything to wipe away her tears, give her a hug, and return to being normal friends. But something had happened to Lizzie. Something bad.

Gordo hung his head. "Lizzie, please, I've been your friend forever… I would never hurt you."

A sniffling sound came from the place where Lizzie was huddled. "I know, Gordo…" He raised his head. "But, I can't. I can't deal with everything. You…" She squeezed her eyelids shut, and tears filtered through. "Gordo, I don't know what to do…" Her voice wavered.

Gordo just sat on the other side of the flower patch; the stinging tears trickling down his face. "What happened to you?"

Nausea crept down her windpipe to her stomach. She could feel herself begin to shake again. "I… oh God… G-Gordo… c-could… you h-hold me?"

Without hesitation, Gordo moved closer to Lizzie, and embraced her gently. At first, his touch seemed to smart her skin, and she screamed involuntarily. But instead of releasing her, Gordo held onto her shaking figure even more protectively. Filled with an incredible gratefulness, Lizzie buried her face into his chest and cried. Gordo rested his head on hers and rocked back and forth soothingly.

"Shhh… Lizzie… It's okay now…" whispered Gordo, kissing the top of her head. "I'm sorry…"

She continued to sob pitifully, holding onto the collar of his shirt.

After a few minutes of Gordo whispering pacifying words of comfort, he noticed that her breathing had become deep and unforced. Her shoulders, which had been shaking, had relaxed considerably, and now were rising and falling with each breath. Tiredness creeping into his own body, Gordo tenderly removed his arms from around her huddled figure and sighed through his teeth.

As carefully as he possibly could, Gordo lifted up her sleeping body (purposely avoiding her mangled arm) and began to walk, slowly and vigilantly towards his old, battered truck.

When he reached the vehicle, he closed his eyes tightly, ignoring the throbbing weariness that pulsed through his head. He held Lizzie more securely, a trace of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His fingers ran gently through her knotted hair, massaging her scalp.    

When he opened his eyes again, a blazing white light temporarily blinded him. Unable to shield his eyes, Gordo turned around and shut them tightly. From inside of his eyelids, Gordo could see white flashes of color.

He heard, rather than saw, someone jump out of the car and rush to where he was standing tiredly with Lizzie in his arms.

"Gordo!"

Gordo immediately turned around and squinted, still adjusting to the contrast in light. "Mr. McGuire?"

Sam took a step towards Gordo, staring at his sleeping daughter. Fear flicked quickly in his eyes. "Gordo? W-what is wrong with Lizzie?" His voice was considerably calm, but his gaze rested for the longest time on the fingernail marks engraved into her cheek. Which were, by now, red streaks lined with black and blue beginnings of a bruise. His wife came hurrying up and gasped, clutching Sam's shirt. Gordo saw in their eyes the reaction to a parent's worst fear. Total meltdown.

Or at least it was for Jo. She began to sob silently, whispering, "My baby, my baby…"

Sam, however, just cleared his throat. "What are you doing here, son?"

Gordo looked down at his best friend and back to her father. "I was worried about her, sir. She promised to call me… and, when I didn't hear from her, I came here to look for her."

Jo's lip trembled, and Gordo snuck a glance at her. Sam frowned at him.

"Where are your parents?"

"Home." It was Gordo's turn to frown. "Why?"

Sam moved towards Gordo almost threateningly, and held out his arms. "I can take Lizzie now, David."

Instinctively, Gordo backed away from Sam's hostile approach, and flinched. The McGuire's never called him David… This was wrong, all wrong…

Sam gritted his teeth. "David Gordon, give me my daughter."

Feeling dread sink to the pit of his stomach, Gordo gently passed Lizzie's sleeping form to Sam. He quickly took her, walked to the car, and laid her on the back seat where she could rest. Gordo stood stalk-still, a horrible realization dawning on him. Gordo strode towards Sam and took a deep breath.

"Mr. McGuire!" he said, "You believe me, don't you?"

Sam laughed coldly. "Sure, David, we believe you."

He began to dial on his cell-phone, but Gordo grabbed it away from him. Sam glared at the young man in front of him, and icily held out his hand.

"Hand me the phone, David," he demanded. Gordo shook his head.

"Not until you hear me out." Before Sam could protest, Gordo gestured towards the car unhappily. "I don't know what the hell you are thinking right now, Mr. McGuire. You-You're acting as if I'm some sort of criminal!" He took a breath. "Lizzie… she's hurt. I see that, Mr. McGuire. I'm freaked out too, okay? But, please…"

With a snarl, Sam snatched away the phone. "You hurt my daughter, David. You are in no position to be telling me anything."

"I didn't hurt Lizzie!" cried Gordo, "I'm her best friend! The person she can count on! I couldn't hurt her, Mr. McGuire… I would never hurt her!"

Sam just stared bitterly at Gordo. "And I suppose I should believe you after I find you in the parking lot alone with my daughter in your arms, scratches all over her face, and a broken arm?" He laughed briskly. "Oh yes, David. That's not surprising at all. And where the hell is her date?"

Gordo's mouth opened and closed. "I-I just found her here… alone!" He looked frustrated. Gordo felt crushed. Just listening to himself plead his case was pathetic. He didn't sound reasonable at all. Sam just crossed his arms and stared at Gordo. His eyes were hollow and betrayed.

He sighed and lifted his face to the sky. "You know what, Gordo?" he asked, using his nickname again. "Isn't it funny how ironic this is? I didn't even like Bryan. I trusted you." He set his jaw angrily. "Yes, Gordo, I trusted you. But it turns out Bryan was the dependable one in the first place!"

Gordo cringed. "Mr. McGuire, you're not being rational…"

"Rational?" Sam yelled. "Rational, David? How can you even say that?"

"Doesn't my friendship count for anything?" Gordo retaliated, growing red with anger. "For seventeen years I've stood by your daughter and comforted her! Why shouldn't I do this now?!"

Sam just glared, and Gordo continued, the beginnings of tears forming in his usually mellow eyes.

"Half of the time, Mr. McGuire, I thank God for her friendship! But… on the other hand, I can't stand it! All those worthless jerks she dates… leaving me in the dust? It just tears me apart!" Silent tears ran down his face. "If I were a woman, it would be easier, wouldn't it? If I were a woman, we wouldn't be having this argument, would we?" Gordo slammed his fist into his hand. "I've figured this out the hard way, Mr. McGuire. Life isn't fair."

With that, Gordo stormed to his car, wrenched open the door, started up the engine, and slammed it behind him.

With a heavy heart at what he had just done, Sam McGuire watched David Gordon drive hastily down the road and out of sight.

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Lizzie awoke late that night; her head was resting comfortably on top of about five different pillows, and her body was so sore that she almost cried out in sheer surprise. But she bit her lip, not daring to move. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes, and was shocked to find her arm enclosed in a hard, shielded cast. She looked around the room. Yes, she was in her house, not the emergency room.

How had she even gotten here?

The last thing she remembered was Gordo… his arms around her, holding her close… his azure eyes burning into her own. His scent was implanted permanently in her mind. It was interesting: a homey, down-to-earth scent. Lizzie smiled. It was comforting. 

Lizzie shut her eyes again, savoring the moment.   

"Lizzie?" asked a small voice. Her head snapped around at the noise.

Matt stepped into the room, looking nervous. "Hey, Lizzie," he said, smiling. Lizzie grinned quickly.

"Hi Matt. What're you up to?"

He shrugged. "Not much." With that, he pulled something out from behind his back. "This is for you." Pity was reflected in his eyes.

Frowning in concentration, Lizzie carefully took the little blue box from her brother's hands. Looking bemused, she peeked inside. Matt watched her eagerly, his gaze following hers. Suddenly, she gasped and smiled brightly.

"Oh Matt! This is wonderful!" She held up two golden hoop earrings. "I-I… how did you buy these?" Astonishment lit up her features. "They're exactly what I wanted! And how did you know I wanted these?"

Matt sighed. "Sorry, Liz, but I'm delivery boy. I didn't get you those. Actually, I haven't even seen them before." He grinned, leaning closer. "Wow. That must have cost Gordo a fortune!"

"What!" Lizzie exclaimed, "_Gordo _bought me this?" Her heart fluttered, and she stared at the gold as if it had just transformed into priceless platinum. Matt laughed.

"Yeah. He was going to have me give it to you for your birthday. But, it seems like it needed to be given early." He laughed. "It looks much better now, doesn't it? Knowing Gordo bought it?" Lizzie blushed crimson.

Trying to act nonchalant, she shrugged. "Yeah. Now I know that you haven't poisoned it with toxic fumes or something." She tried to move her broken arm, but as a sharp pain shot through her body, she thought otherwise. "Matt? Where is Gordo anyway?"

He shrugged. "Lover-boy is gone."

Lizzie frowned. "Gone?"

"Yeah. I don't know where he is. But don't ask me… I wasn't there when you were found. But I heard Dad and Mom arguing over something." Matt looked almost as sad as a brother could look.

"What?" inquired Lizzie. Matt gave her a gloomy smile.

"They think Gordo raped you."

Lizzie's mouth opened in awe, and she held back angry tears. "H-how dare they say that!" she screeched shrilly, finally bursting into tears and hitting her pillow against the wall furiously. "Bryan… not Gordo…" Lizzie held her head between her hands, and Matt quietly went to the door and shut it. He put his hand on her knee, which was hidden underneath all of the blankets and comforters.

"I didn't believe it when I heard," Matt mused, sighing deeply. "He's like a brother to me. I know he wouldn't do that to you; or anyone else, for that matter."

Lizzie sniffled. "So he's gone?" The words wrenched her heart painfully.

Matt twiddled his thumbs, not looking at his sister's heartbroken expression. "Listen, Liz, I'm sorry…" Tears ran down her face, and suddenly, her arm was excruciating. She rubbed her puffy red eyes. 

Matt bit his lip, and gestured towards the door. "I-I should go…"

Lizzie put her hand on his arm. "Matt…" She smiled wearily. "Thanks."

"No problem," he said.

Lizzie closed her eyes, and using her good arm, hoisted herself off of her bed. The sheets fell to the floor.

Matt sighed. "Should I leave, Liz?"

She nodded. "I'll see you later, Matt." She glanced toward the window, and with a sad smile, turned back to her brother. "Don't tell Mom and Dad."

With a little nod of his head, he retreated out of the door and into the hallway, closing the door behind him warily. Lizzie sighed, and with a little leap of her heart, walked over to the window. She looked down the roof, and watched the wind disturb the tops of the trees. Leaves and pine needles drifted to the ground. She squeezed her eyes shut.

She couldn't stay here.

Not now.

Glaring angrily at her broken arm, she opened the window, and carefully lowered herself down on the roof. She could hear the wood creaking underneath her weight.

"Oh God," she murmured, holding onto the windowsill with one hand. Groaning with effort and pain, she slid down the roof, her shoes barely holding onto the slick wooden planks. Her broken arm gave a sudden burst of a fresh batch of pain, and she had to muffle a scream.

Cradling her arm, Lizzie had to stop. Her breath came in ragged gulps, and each intake strained her tired lungs.

Summoning as much courage as humanly possible, Lizzie let herself slide bumpily down the roof. Her good hand and arm grasped anything that she could find.

She was almost to the gutters, but, looking down, everything seemed further away. She felt like she was looking at a rearview mirror, which said everything was closer than it appeared. The gutters sure _seemed_ far away, but, in fact, were fairly close.

Lizzie took a deep breath, and stood up carefully. She moved down the roof, heart pounding loudly. If she fell, not only would she visibly destroy her body, she would get into serious trouble with her parents.

Sighing in denial and determination, she reached the gutters and grabbed. With a grunt, she moved horizontally across the roof until she came to the latticework. Lizzie smiled shortly. Only a month ago, Sam had put up the latticework next to the roof, and as much as Lizzie liked it then, _now_ it was like a gift from heaven. Silently saying a prayer of thankfulness, Lizzie grabbed the top of the frame with a shaking hand, and fit her shoes into the latticework pattern. Slowly, she climbed down, making sure to press herself up to the side of the house, so that the latticework wouldn't rip and topple over backwards.

As soon as she was approximately two feet from the ground, she jumped. Not being the most balanced person in the world, she landed awkwardly and collapsed to the ground. Her broken arm gave a painful twang.

Lizzie hoisted herself off the ground, not bothering to wipe off the dirt from her jeans. Feeling incredibly like a criminal, she jogged across the shadowy lawn, her ears ####### for the unwelcome sounds of night. Everything was registered in her mind as danger, and Lizzie was jumpy and scared as she walked to the sidewalk. She engulfed herself in a hug as soon as she reached the curb, trying to rid herself of the goose bumps that had crept up her elbows to her shoulders.

As if in a trace, she walked down the road, unsure of her destination.

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Gordo sighed, and kicked another coke can across the pavement. It skidded noisily until it slammed into the tire of his truck. Thrusting his hands in his pockets carelessly, Gordo slowly walked towards it. Another angry kick of his shoe, and the can flew through the air, landing loudly in the dumpster. The sound of tin against metal reverberated through the garbage site by the side of the road.

Gordo leaned against his truck and breathed a sigh.

What a wonderful life he lived.

Laughing sarcastically to himself, Gordo ran his hands through his disheveled chocolate curls, and closed his eyes painfully. Half annoyed with himself, half aggravated, he bit his tongue and slammed his elbow into the side of his faded green Toyota.

The rearview mirror shattered into a tiny thousand pieces.

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She walked down the streets of Hillridge, her hot breath sending puffs of vapor into the night air.

She didn't know what she was doing. She didn't know where she was headed.

All she knew was that she desperately needed to see Gordo.

Lizzie shivered quickly and sighed, her teeth chattering, her jaw trembling. The clouded night sky did her no favor as she walked on, without the moon's hearty glow to guide her. All she could see was a lonely star, dying in the corner of the sky… its light flickering off, and then coming back on with a tremendous amount of strength. Lizzie looked at it closely, and without warning, tears began to slide down her face. However much it tried, the star would soon die.

Life is unfair.

She grimaced at a dog's disheartened howl, and sighed. It was amazing how Hillridge could be so buoyant and bustling in the day, and so hostile at night. Why couldn't it always be happy? Why couldn't it be Status-Symbol Land, like it was when the sun shone?

Life is unfair.

Lizzie shuffled her feet and sighed in anguish.

Life is unfair.

Beginning to become dispirited by every step she took, Lizzie trudged along the road, her useless arm held stonily at her side. The other arm was rubbing her shoulders, trying to begin circulation. Then, suddenly, Lizzie stopped moving. 

She heard a sound, like the breaking of glass.

Lizzie gasped quickly, drawing her breath in through her mouth and down her parched throat. She shivered uncontrollably, and began to back up. She began a silent prayer, and clasped her hands together, asking for forgiveness. Asking for mercy. Silent tears of fear slid down her cheeks. She couldn't deal with anything like this now…

Scared to death, Lizzie backed herself protectively against the side of a ramshackle building. 

And then, as if God had heard her plea, a stifling sob came from around the corner of the run-down building. Lizzie tensed at hearing the sound, and bit her lip. Whoever was weeping was in great pain, and Lizzie couldn't bear to hear his heart-wrenching cries. She began to move along the building.

Soon, she was at the corner. Apprehensively, she peered around the side of the building.

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Gordo tried to hold back the regretful tears, but they spilled down his face just the same.

Soon, he didn't fight the thickheaded masculine side of himself, and broke down completely. His sobs were shaky and uncertain, inaudibly crying out for help and comfort. But, the only people around at this time of night were homeless and in more need of help than he was, so Gordo's assistance was unlikely to come. Knowing this fact, he sighed in discouragement, and buried his head in his arms.

Suddenly, he heard a noise.

Gordo whirled around in dread, and found himself staring perplexingly into the eyes of none other than Lizzie. His sweet Lizzie.

Before he could comprehend how she had even gotten to the derelict, disgusting garbage site, he was almost knocked backwards by an arm around his neck, and a pair of lips against his, passionately kissing him.

Gordo closed his eyes in ecstasy, and brought his hands to her waist gently, urging her closer to him. Feeling all of his fears melt away, Gordo kissed her back fiercely, not ashamed to demonstrate the infatuation he had kept locked up inside for so long; not ashamed to admit that he was kissing his best friend, and he was in love with her.

Only a few seconds later, Lizzie and Gordo broke apart. Gordo opened his azure eyes slowly.

"Gordo…" Lizzie whispered, breathless. "I'm sorry."

Before Gordo could say anything to question her statement, Lizzie threw herself at him and wrapped her arms around his waist, crying onto his shoulder. "I'm sorry Gordo… I really am." She sniffled. "Matt told me everything… What Dad did… everything." She pulled reluctantly away from his warm, comforting body, and peered at him. "Gordo, I'm so sorry…" Tears stung her cheeks. "I-I… Bryan raped me, Gordo. That's what happened… I was scared… Oh God, I still am." She stared at her best friend. "Just being this close to you," she started, the inside of her mouth growing dry, "Makes the whole night terrifying, yet exciting. Do you understand, Gordo? I'm frightened!" Her lips brushed tenderly against Gordo's neck, and sent shivers up and down his spine.

Gordo held her closer to him, not saying anything. He kissed her blonde-strewn head, letting the news creep into his heart. In the back of his mind though, Gordo had already known what had happened to Lizzie. He rubbed her back soothingly, and Lizzie looked up at him.

"Gordo… aren't you going to say anything?" she asked uneasily. He just smiled and pressed his forehead against hers.

"I love you, Liz… I won't let that happen again," he vowed. Lizzie's eyes lit up in jovial approval.

"I love you too, Gordo…" she told him gratefully. A smile fluttered to her face. "Oh God, Gordo, I love you so much!"

He brushed her blonde hair out of her eyes, and pressed his lips against hers. This time, no hesitancy was displayed; Gordo and Lizzie just relaxed into a passion-filled kiss, their hands roaming across the other's body. Lizzie deepened the kiss by leaning closer to him, and running her hands through his hair. 

Gordo smiled through the kiss, and pulled away for a second. "Lizzie?"

They stared at each other, and no words were spoken. An inaudible realization was passed between them.

The two lovers smiled warmly, and embraced each other.

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So… you guys like this? Love it? Admire it? Worship it? *grins*

I really enjoyed writing this one, because I got to get away from my other, longer stories. *grins* I can't believe how long this is. *sighs* See, _this _is what happens when I try to do one-shot fics without any "real" boundaries. Scary? I know. Lol.

*grins* Yeah. Well, I'm thinking that I probably need an epilogue. Am I right? Sorry I didn't just finish it. I'm too lazy, and I wanted to get it up ASAP. But anyway, tell me if you want an epilogue, and I would REALLY appreciate some nice, heartfelt reviews. *grins* They don't have to be a novel, but just some kind words (or not so kind words… *grins*). Anyway, if you could take the time to review, I will be forever in your debt. *grins*

So… anyway… please review, and, NO flames (I'm not saying I get them, I just dislike them). Please don't take your time to write them out. Remember, flames are one thing, and constructive criticism is another. *grins* Savvy? (hahaha, I love Pirates! Kobe-Mac, GO YOU! And Gordo'sGirl PapyrusInk!! Whoohoo! *coughs* Er…)

Have fun anyway. Hope this story "enlightened" you. *grins* I'm not sure how, but… *looks around*

And Em? I expect a LONG review. *laughs* Right, old chap?

Hello Dini! Love you! Hurry up and email! *grins* I'll be waiting!

Well, that's enough little messages. To everyone else… PLEASE REVIEW, and HAVE A WONDERFUL, HAPPY-GO-LUCKY DAY!! Muah! ^_^

Wait! Don't go yet! Random spontaneous moment. I only learned yesterday that "ciao" is pronounced something along the lines as "chow". Isn't that cool to people who never knew? *laughs* Well, it was for me. Anyway…

And if you noticed *cough cough* the title can be interpreted as tears, as in the salty water that leaks from your eyes, or tears, like a tear in fabric. Oooh… I'm so creative… *sigh* Okay, maybe it's not *that* good, but it's a start. *grins*

~Tic-Tac


	2. Tears of Reconstruction

**A/N**: Guess what everybody! I have no idea what Miranda's mom is named, so I named her myself! It's very creative, I know. *cough cough* Yeah, creative.

*stares at review page* Wow. I didn't think it was possible to get 43 reviews for one chapter, but… well, it just goes to show you. I'm very grateful. All of them were very uplifting, and it really inspired me to continue (well, I was going to anyway, but still. ^_^). I know it took me about 10 light-years to update, but as I keep saying to my email friends and you guys (who are also my friends too, but in a different way *grins*), I am immensely busy with schoolwork and tests and stuff… and of course, I need to keep my grade up. *winks*

btw, to anyone who cares, I have a 4.0 GPA! Yay!

Thanks again: for sticking with me 'till the end. Sadly enough, this IS the last chapter, no epilogue, no nothing. Enjoy and review!

~Tic-Tac

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_Children behave_

_That's what they say when we're together_

_And watch how you play_

_They don't understand and so we're -_

_- Running just as fast as we can_

_Holding onto one another's hand_

_Tryin' to get away into the night_

_And then you put your arms around me_

_And we tumble to the ground_

_And then you say –_

_- I think we're alone now_

_There doesn't seem to be anyone around_

_I think we're alone now_

_The beating of our hearts_

Is the only sound 

- Tommy James and the Shondells

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: || :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Matt McGuire closed the door of his sister's bedroom, and, as if in a daze, began to walk downstairs to his awaiting parents. His hands shaking, his brow sweating, he felt as if he had sent his sister into an unimaginable realm of misery. Reasoning reminded him that he had done nothing wrong, and he was actually helping her, but guilt seeped into his thoughts, choking him. An iron hand clenched ruthlessly around his heart.

Yes, he trusted Gordo. He would trust him with his life. But, this was his sister's life, and now, he wasn't so sure.

Matt craned his head around to look at the door. He said he wouldn't bother her; he said he wouldn't come back. But still, an overwhelming desire to protect her swept over his senses, temporarily blinding his rationale. He bit down, and a tiny trickle of blood ran down his bottom lip. His hand was immediately pressed to the cut, and he cracked his knuckles, contemplating whether or not heroicness was best for the situation he was in.

Was he the hero, anyway? What is a hero?

Does a hero really need courage, or just adrenaline, pumped through their veins at a spur of the moment decision?

He spun around quickly and flung open the door.

He ransacked, with frightful eyes, the nearly spotless room. But it was hopeless. Her bedspread was rumpled and tumbled about, obviously slept in, but she wasn't there. Matt wasn't too surprised; she had practically announced her departure to him.

_"Don't tell Mom and Dad," _she had said firmly.

 But she was gone now, swept through the window and into whoever knows where.

The chilly air engulfed Matt, and he sat down heavily on her bed, peering into the cloudy night sky.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: || :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Gordo and Lizzie sat silently in the front of Gordo's old Toyota truck, not willing to move nor speak. They were both drained - emotionally and physically – and discussing their plight wasn't worth the effort. It was pointless it seemed, to try to either be pessimistic or optimistic. It was easier to lay back and be neutral; not caring; away from the problems that life had to offer.

Lizzie shifted, not uncomfortably, in her seat. "Gordo," she asked in a barely audible whisper, "what are we going to do? What are we going to say?"

He looked straight ahead - through the window-shield and into the hostile ambiance beyond. "We'll figure it out in time."

His words scared her. They were dry and meaningless, strung together like a last-minute Christmas ornament.

But Lizzie, anxious for herself and Gordo, didn't reply. Instead, she just laid her hand over his.

They lapsed into silence again.

"Are you scared, Gordo?" she finally asked.

"No."

"Mad?"

"No." 

"Worried?"

"No." He sighed deeply. "Lizzie, I'm not sure what I'm feeling." He looked dotingly into her subterranean hazel eyes. "I'm sorry."

Their loving gazes met in an inaudible agreement. He looked down at the floor of the truck.

"Let's start back," Lizzie suggested plaintively. Nodding, Gordo slid the key into the ignition, shifted into gear, and pressed his foot gingerly to the pedal. The truck lurched forward and groaned, as if it had been sitting uselessly in the same position for a decade.

Gordo, though driving, entered into his own world of thoughts. He was lying when he told Lizzie that he didn't know how he felt. That was a downright fib. Of course he knew how he felt. He was lost, teetering precariously between two unreachable realities. He loved Lizzie with all his heart, and knew that she loved him too. And that's what hurt so badly. More than anything, he wanted to scoop her up in his arms, press kisses to her body, and express his undying, passionate love to her. He wanted to feel at home with her, wake up with her; he didn't want anything to come between them, rip her away from him; send him into years of hell all over again.

But the love he held in the corner of his heart still pulsed for his family. His mother and father, though monotone and stereotypical, were still his parents. And as unfair as they were, they still expected him to find a nice Jewish girl, fall in love with her, and bind her to him with the ancient Ketubah document. Howard and Roberta had stuck firmly to their beliefs, and when, one day, Gordo had yelled that Lizzie McGuire was his bashert, his perfect match, they went ballistic, not willing to believe that their genius son could be so simpleminded and naïve.

Gordo had held his ground, never agreeing with Howard and Roberta, never wavering. Soon, his parents had forgotten about his whole outburst, and were readying themselves for the day when he would meet a girl who shared their religious beliefs. But Gordo didn't want a rabbi to pronounce him the husband of just anybody.

Eyes lit with a newfound courage, Gordo, with his hand on the wheel, pulled over to the side of the road.

Lizzie watched him with a bemused expression. "Gordo? What are you doing?"

He didn't say a word. Instead, he unbuckled their seatbelts, and pulled Lizzie close to him, pressing his cheek to her strawberry-scented hair.

"I love you," he told her. She smiled against his shoulder.

"Ditto," she joked. His face bright with adoring admiration, he kissed her forehead, her brow, and then her sweet, upturned mouth. Lizzie dissolved again, swept into a flurry of love and passion.

"I want to always be here for you, Lizzie," he started solemnly, "I always want to love and protect you."

"I know." Her fingers found his, and they intertwined. Gordo's azure eyes found hers, and steadily, slowly, he spoke.

"Till death do us part," he whispered.

Five words. Five words that seal a romantic bond between two people, stating that they are willing to share a lifestyle, a home, a family. To share their love, and be loved in return. As the meaning of those five words sunk in, Lizzie's eyes widened in confusion and dismay.

"Gordo…" she started.

He brought his lips to hers in a tender kiss. "I love you Lizzie. I always have, and I always will." Her eyes welled with tears. "If I could foretell the future, I would have never left your side. I would have never let that bastard touch you again." He smiled sadly, as though he regretted this thought very much. "I'm sorry for everything that happened, Lizzie. Everything was disoriented. I was confused and foolish to run." He held himself tall and proud. "But I'm not confused any longer." He smiled, and took one of her hands in his own. "Elizabeth McGuire, what I'm trying to say is… will you marry me?"

The spoken sound of those words sent Lizzie into disbelieving shock, and she just sat in the passenger's seat of the battled old Toyota, mulling over what he had just asked her. Her throat went dry, and she stared at Gordo fixedly, as if trying to read his mind.

If two years earlier, Lizzie had received indication of what was happening, she wouldn't have believed it. If two years earlier, she knew that Gordo was proposing to her, and that she had gotten raped by her former boyfriend, she would have laughed out loud, and taken it as one huge scam.

But now, Lizzie realized, she was different. And looking into Gordo's mellow, heartfelt eyes, she was uplifted in gratitude and love, and the prospect of marriage wasn't so scary anymore.

Hadn't her mother said that friendship upholds the finest relationships?

Gordo watched Lizzie patiently, unsure of what to make of her expression. When she turned to him, her face was smiling, and her eyes were sparkling. "Yes." Grateful tears cascaded down her face. "David Gordon, I will marry you."

An expression of utmost joy swept to his face, and he smiled widely, pulling her into a loving embrace. Lizzie nuzzled into his neck comfortably, and closed her eyes, thinking about what she had just said. It hadn't felt like a commitment at all. It just felt like an enforcement, backing up their loving relationship.

When they pulled away, Gordo kissed her chastely, and said, "I know I don't have a ring, but I give you my word. I'll buy you one as soon as possible. I promise."

But that wasn't Lizzie's concern at all. "Oh Gordo," she said in dismay, "your parents… my parents…"

"I'll talk to them, Lizzie, don't worry."

Lizzie seemed reassured slightly, but a slightly panicky expression passed over her features.

"You don't think we're rushing this? It's barely been an hour since our first kiss."

Gordo had to smile. "Lizzie, how long have we been friends?"

Lizzie stared back at him, baffled. "Seventeen years. Gordo, you know that."

Gordo kissed her forehead soothingly. "That's how long I've loved you."

The trueness of the statement surged through Lizzie's body, and the satisfying realization made her heart flutter in happiness. Gordo smiled, and said, "You see, Liz, we're always loved each other, even if it was just when we were three years old. It just takes time to appreciate and welcome the feeling." Lizzie smiled softly back at him; his smile was contagious.

For a precious moment, not a word was spoken. And in that time, millions of people around the world kissed their spouse, blinded with fixated infatuation.

"I love you so much, Gordo…" Lizzie told him, struggling not to cry, "You've always been so kind to me; so compassionate. I know that I was so thick sometimes, and I'm extremely sorry. I took you for granted, Gordo, and I resent every minute I ever thought down of you." She kissed him fervently, but the fear of losing him was back. "Our parents…"    

He squeezed her hand gently, and traced his finger along her cheekbone. "Yasher koach, Liz. Have strength."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: || :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Miranda Sanchez, with difficulty, spread the cheese and egg mixture onto the thin, fragile fillo dough. Her washed hands worked frantically, folding the papery dough from one corner to another, creating a small triangle. As soon as she was done, she picked up a wooden brush, and swabbed the melted butter onto each flat side. She then wiped her greasy fingers on the blue and red flowery apron; tied carelessly around her slender waist.

"Perfection," she proudly announced.

Her mother came down the stairs; slippers dragging, eyes puffy. Her head turned towards Miranda, and she sighed heavily, stifling a yawn.

"Miranda… why are you up?" She didn't look angry, just tired.

Miranda gestured toward her finished work with pride. "I was making some cheese boereg, Mama."

She smiled. "Must you make Greek food, darling? Why not burritos or enchiladas?"

Miranda shrugged. "I was sick of those." She picked up the cookie sheet, and carried it to the oven. She slid it in carefully, and shut the door. "There we go. They'll be done in about fifteen minutes."

Miranda's mother shook her head in exasperation, but smiled all the same.

Suddenly, the phone rang shrilly, and they both jumped in surprise. Her mother swore in Spanish.

"Who would be calling at this time?" she asked, picking up the phone almost angrily, and saying, "¿Hola?"

As she listened, her facial features softened, then her eyes widened. After about a minute, she gasped and clutched at her heart. "Si… si… we will be over soon…" she managed to expel. Her eyes were no longer angry and tired-looking. They were filled with a pity Miranda had never seen before.

"Mama?" Miranda asked carefully, "What is it, Mama?"

Her mother peered at her through her tears. "Lizzie, darling. Lizzie has been raped."

Miranda just stared ahead, not willing to believe something so ferocious and inhuman had happened to her best friend. Tears began to well up in her eyes, and soon, she was sobbing, huddled against her mother's breast for support. Her mother rocked her back and forth, kissing the top of her head soothingly.

"Come come, Miranda. We will drive to the McGuire's house now."

She sat silently in the back of her parent's minivan, staring fixedly at a wrinkle in her mother's nightgown. Miranda and her mother had not bothered to change into proper clothes. It didn't seem to matter. It was such a trivial decision, and Miranda wanted to get to the McGuire's as soon as she possibly could. She had to be there for Lizzie.

"Poor dear," Miranda's mother muttered, eyes focused on the dark road ahead, "… Must be heartbroken."

Miranda's head was lowered to the palm of her head. "I would just die if I was in her place."

"All of us would think that now, wouldn't we?"

Clearly it was rhetorical, or Miranda didn't bother to respond.

Soon, they pulled into the driveway, and Miranda immediately jumped out, not even waiting for the car to pull to a stop. Mr. and Mrs. McGuire were standing in the doorstep. Sam was ashen faced, and Jo was wringing her hands relentlessly. Her eyes were red as if she had just been crying.

When Miranda reached them, she was pulled into a hug, and Jo sobbed onto her shoulder. Tears leaked from Miranda's eyes.

"L-Lizzie's up in her room, sweetheart," Jo told her, wiping her face with a used handkerchief. Sam couldn't seem to summon words. He just stared at Miranda and her mother as if they weren't there. As if they were invisible, undistinguishable. His hands, usually holding all kinds of kits and supplies for various projects, were shaking and pastel white, almost transparent.

Miranda turned on her heel, walked into the barren house, and proceeded to walk up the stairs. Her footsteps seemed to echo extraordinarily loud in the dimly lit corridor.

Somehow nervous and anxious, Miranda began to dread seeing her best friend in so much pain. And when she reached the door, she almost turned her head.

But she opened it, and instead of all the bloody and gruesome imaginings she had thought up, all she saw was Matt. In confusion, she strode quickly toward the 15-year-old. He sensed her presence, and turned his head sorrowfully.

"Where is she?" Miranda asked, suppressing the panic-stricken meltdown boiling inside her throat. He sighed deeply, seemingly in no hurry.

"I don't know."

Miranda hissed, "What do you mean you don't know!?"

He gestured towards the window. "The world's a large place, Miranda."

"Are you telling me that Lizzie RAN AWAY!?" She was in hysteria. Bloodshot eyes shot around the tidy room.

Matt said calmly, "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am."

"Why would she do a God-damned thing like that?" Miranda gritted her teeth. "Matt McGuire, you aren't making a bit of sense!"

He walked over to the door and closed it. "Do you even know what happened? Or were my parents too ashamed to tell you?"

Miranda stopped short, and looked directly into Matt's pale blue eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Lizzie left, Miranda, because she's in love."

Miranda's face twisted into confusion, but before she could question him, Matt reached into his back pocket and handed her a crumpled slip of paper. "This was part of Lizzie's eighteenth birthday."

"Where -?"

"Just read."

Lizzie – 

_Happy birthday! Can you believe that you're eighteen? We're actually adults! I can still see us covered in mud, laughing our heads off, trying to throw worms at each other. Okay, so that's not the best way to introduce a birthday card, but oh well. You know what I mean._

_It seems hard to comprehend that in less than a year, we'll go off to our separate colleges, get an education… Everything seems so distant, untouchable. Nothing seems reasonable. Just think! In less than four years, you could be married! I'd say that's a big step, wouldn't you?_

_Well, to be truthful, I almost didn't want to write this card. Have you ever had the feeling that you're plunging headfirst into an infinitely large vat of icy darkness? Well, that's how I feel now, as I'm writing. You don't even know how hard this is for me. Let's just say this: Elizabeth McGuire, I have a secret. And if you understand, then I could be the happiest man alive, or if you think I'm crazy… well, I'm not sure what I'll do. Because, you see, I was lying when I said I wasn't interested in dating anyone. I am._

_Liz, I'm head over heels in love with you._

Before you scrunch your face up in disgust, rip this paper to shreds, and chuck its remains in the dumpster, please consider this. Please.

Will you go out with me?

Love, your best friend,

-Gordo

Miranda reread the card again, and turned to stare open-mouthed at Matt. "T-this is Gordo's handwriting."

He smiled sadly, reaching a pale finger behind his head and scratching his scalp. "Too true."

"You just… nicked this?" Miranda breathed, disbelieving. "Matt, that's horrible!"

"I didn't steal it. Gordo gave it to me to give to Lizzie. Poor guy. He was really nervous."

She traced her finger over Gordo's tidy scrawl. "Yeah… Did Liz ever read this?"

"No," Matt answered instantaneously. Miranda's face didn't change expression.

"I can't believe it. Who would've thought?" she whispered, staring at the card as if expecting the words to rearrange themselves into a more comprehendible position. Soon, she couldn't help herself, and a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Gordo and Lizzie." She said the names aloud.

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Suddenly, her eyes traveled to the window, then to the letter. "Matt!" she exclaimed sharply, as if she was just struck by lightning. "Why isn't Gordo here?"

He bit his lower lip. "I was hoping you wouldn't ask that."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: || :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  

Rosa Sanchez smoothed her nightgown compulsively, watching Jo and Sam in unease. Not a word had been spoken between them since Miranda had rushed up the stairs to Lizzie, and the uncertain silence threatened to drive Rosa insane with worry.

She tugged at her shawl, afraid to comfort the two devastated parents, lest her efforts open a fresh wound full of pain. She rubbed her forefinger against her thumb apprehensively.

Jo ran a hand through her graying hair. "Rosa… thanks for coming. You're a saint."

"It was the least I could do. And Miranda wouldn't have let me _not _come."

Jo's smile was faint, tinged with hurt and betrayal. "Yes… yes…"

They sat in silence once again. Rosa gripped her hand tightly around the coffee mug and raised it to her lips. The hot, dark liquid splashed down her parched throat. She was thankful for the interruption, and drank again, savoring the moment. Sam and Jo were watching her intently.

Rosa ran her tongue along her top gums in earnest. "How is Lizzie coping?"

Sam looked at the stairs, and glanced back at her. "Good, I think. W-we…" He gulped and squeezed Jo's clammy hand. "We believe that we have identified the rapist." His voice shook, and his stony face stared right through her, as if she were transparent. A chill went down her spine.  

"W-who is it Sam?"

He smiled grimly and clearly announced, "Her best friend."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: || :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  

"Gordo!" she cried, and slapped his arm playfully. "Stop making blonde jokes! It's immature!"

He laughed, and ran his hands up her shoulders. "Too immature for my future wife?" He brought his lips to hers and enclosed around them passionately. She chuckled through the kiss.

"Especially for your future wife." His hands were at her collarbone, massaging her sore shoulder muscles. She was still laughing softly, pressing up against him in earnest. He shifted his body so that he was positioned on top of her, and planted kisses from her mouth to her neck. She squirmed underneath him, accepting his closeness with another deep kiss.

"How about my best friend?" he moaned, kissing her smooth neck again. "Is it too immature for my best friend?"

She chuckled and touched his luscious lips with her forefinger. "Your best friend acknowledges your immature behavior, and believes you were born with it." Her hands slid underneath his shirt, and were pressed against his chest lovingly. He stared into her infatuated eyes and laughed softly, kissing her sweet lips.

"I love you," he told her huskily, touching her forehead with his own. Her hands caressed his bare chest.

"I know," was all she said, and kissed him overpoweringly. " By the way, Gordo… should I call you David now? Now that we're getting married?" Her voice was hoarse, brimming with lust and desire.

He couldn't think. He couldn't feel. And before he could stop himself, his hands were groping at her bra-strap, desperate to unclasp it. Every second he didn't feel her body underneath him was slowly killing him; crushing him. His common sense had been stored away in the far corner of his brain, and now, plugged with animal instincts and longing, he began to pull her shirt off over her head.

Lips found lips, and breathing became labored and difficult. Hearts were pounding in excited chests.

All of a sudden, her shirt halfway off, she said with much difficulty, "Gordo… please stop…"

It was difficult, but her pleading voice broke through his semiconscious mind, and he pulled away awkwardly. "Lizzie…" he whispered desperately, "I'm sorry… I'm sorry… Oh God… I didn't mean -,"

She was shaking, the fear of sexual activity replaying over in her mind. "Gordo…" She began to weep. "I want to Gordo, I want to…" He lifted himself off of her and sat a distance away. "But I can't…" Her eyes filled with tears. "I love you, David Gordon, but I can't."

He watched her internal struggle, and suddenly felt like a traitor. "I-I can't believe I did that, Liz… I'm so sorry…"

She touched his arm, her eyes watery. "I egged you on. I shouldn't have. It's not your fault."

He managed a small smile. "You mean it wasn't _entirely _my fault." She rubbed her neck, and allowed a watery smile to leak through her tears.

"Yeah."

"Well, that settles it." His bright attitude calmed her, and she began to relax. She reached behind her back and clasped her bra-strap once again. Then, she pulled down her shirt.

Gordo turned his head in respect while Lizzie did this, and when he looked back at her, she was still pale, but her eyes were smiling, expressing emotion that her mouth could not.

"Let's go," she said carefully. They swapped seats, and Gordo grabbed the wheel one hand, and Lizzie's clammy hand in another. He gave her a reassuring squeeze.

"I love you, Lizzie." He smiled softly, and turned to the road. The car started up (with Gordo's consistent pleading), and it began to lumber down the road slowly, creaking and groaning with the effort. As expected, the young couple was silent.

Gordo was mentally torturing himself; insulting his self-indulgence, cursing his dignity. He could scarcely believe that he had let his feelings brainwash his rationale. It was extraordinary. Nothing – or no one, for that matter – had made him that… vulnerable before. Gordo liked to think that he had that situation all under control, but, he reasoned, if Lizzie hadn't stopped him…

Gordo cursed inwardly. He was as bad as Bryan. He really _couldn't _be trusted with Sam McGuire's only daughter…

 :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: || :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::   

Miranda's face turned pale, and her dark lashes stood out terrifically against her white skin. "No… G-Gordo wouldn't… Mr. McGuire wouldn't…"

Matt shifted himself on the bed, and felt tears at the corner of his eyes. But, he did not cry. Crying would admit that this nightmare was indeed happening within his own sanctuary, his home. Crying would enunciate his fears. Instead, he put his small arm around Miranda's shaking shoulders, and whispered, "I'm sorry you had to hear it from me."

She wept onto his shoulder, and Matt was shocked beyond belief. Miranda didn't cry. She was the strong one; the hardcore, take-no-prisoners best friend of Lizzie's. But here she was: tears spilling out of her eyes, body shaking in grief. Matt was frozen, and he patted her shoulder awkwardly.

Suddenly, it was over. Miranda's black-haired head was raised off of Matt's shoulder, and Matt watched her in fascination as she wiped the tears away from her dark, endless orbs.

She pursed her lips. "This is shit."

Without another word, she stormed over to Lizzie's bedroom door, flung it open, and proceeded to walk - almost calmly - downstairs. Matt was speechless.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: || :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::   

Rosa clutched at her heart. "No…"

Sam was white-faced with anger and regret. "I'm afraid to say it, but…"

Rosa stared at him, shaking her head in disbelief. "Sam, be reasonable… David?" She shook her head again. "David, of all people." She rubbed the side of her olive-skinned face with a shaking hand. "No."

"Rosa, I'm telling you, I saw -,"

"Mr. McGuire!" Miranda ran down the stairs, black hair flying out of its messy bun. "Mr. McGuire, I can't believe you did that!" Her eyes were flashing angrily, reflecting all of the rage she was feeling.

Rosa started to stand up. "Miranda… darling…"

"Mama, please." Miranda turned away from her mother to glare at her best friend's father. "Mr. McGuire, I can't stand this anymore. Gordo didn't do anything wrong!"

Sam's eye twitched. "_David _raped my daughter."

Her fists clenched and settled next to her hips. Slowly, after a moment of silence, her expression softened. "Why are you doing this to yourself, Mr. McGuire? You know as well as I that Gordo would never lay so much as a hand on Lizzie without her permission."

Sam seemed to be having trouble breathing. "I saw him with her! I saw him with her in his arms! What else could I do?!" he erupted, throwing up his hands in dismay. Miranda bit her lip.

"Is that enough to accuse him of rape?" she asked carefully, sheltering her anger.

Sam had had enough. "I'm worried about my baby! Is that enough for you, Miranda? I needed -,"

"-A scapegoat?" Miranda provided. Sam's flaming eyes flickered and died.

"If… you… want… to… talk… to Lizzie… about it, then do so." His expression was dead and tired, and his breath was drawn slowly, as if it were his last. "Go on. I won't stop you." 

But Miranda just stood in the middle of the room, unmoving.

"Mr. McGuire, she's gone."

To Miranda's utter surprise, he just closed his eyes. 

"Goddamn him." 

Unexpectedly, Rosa, Jo, and Miranda all jumped as a loud knock echoed throughout the living room. Miranda ran to the door, hopeful of who was behind it. She was shaking in anticipation and worry, and flung open the door, saying desperately, "Gordo… Lizzie… we were so worr -,"

"Hello Miranda." Howard and Roberta Gordon stood in doorway, calm and collected as ever. Miranda stumbled over her words.

"H-hello." She couldn't gather words together. "C-come in."

They walked into the living room. Roberta's lips were pressed together tightly, and Howard was glancing angrily around the room, as if he were looking for someone to punish.

Sam's eyes strayed to Mr. Gordon. "Howard," he acknowledged. His fake chipper smile was as cold as iron.

Roberta sat on one end of the couch, but Howard stood, still gazing intently at Sam. "Hello Sam."

Jo felt a tremor of dread run through her body.

"I called the police," Howard Gordon announced grimly. Miranda gasped on impulse.

"Mr. Gordon, what -," she started, but her mother stopped her. Fortunately, Jo expressed the same amazement and outrage.

"You called the police on your own son?" she started, talking for the first time the night. "What the hell were you thinking?!"

Roberta's tight lips grew – if possible – tighter. "It's best for your daughter, Jo."

They stared at each other. Best friends since high school, they always got along. They never fought. When Jo's children were born, Roberta was always across the street to lend a helping hand. When Roberta first had a miscarriage, Jo was there to weep with her. They were best friends. The absolute best kind of friends.

"But what about _your _son?" Jo questioned carefully, minutes later. "He – we – we're not even sure he did anything wrong…"

Howard jumped in. "He was bound to explode, Jo. He was best friends with girls all his life. He had no experience being a man." Roberta glanced at her husband, but did not say a word. She was torn.

"So you're saying that David had to 'experience being a man' by raping his best friend?" Jo asked grimly, "If that's true, then I'm not sure I trust men anymore." She shook her head. "Howard, this isn't making sense at all. I know David. He wouldn't do anything to hurt anyone."

At this point, Rosa steered Miranda out of the room, and herded her up the stairs in earnest. "Let's go…" she had said. Miranda, instead of arguing, just nodded mutely, and followed her mother up the winding staircase.

Sam watched the pair, then looked at his wife. His eyes closed for a second, then they fluttered open. "I agree." Jo gave him a watery smile, and Roberta seemed to breath a sigh of utmost relief. But Howard looked surprised and almost angry.

Howard started, "Sam -,"

Everybody stopped talking.

There was a tentative knock at the door.

Jo stood up first. Carefully, she walked to the door and opened it, stepping out into the cold night.

Her face broke into an immensely thankful smile, topped off with a little sob. "Lizzie."

She was engulfed into her mother's arms without question or hesitation, and she was glad. The homely patchouli-scented perfume smelled wonderful to her, and her mother's soft embrace was enough to make her cry out in joy and relief. Lizzie buried her head onto her mother's shoulder and sobbed like a little girl just awoken from a nightmare, and brought to the kitchen for a mug of hot cocoa and biscuits. Her mother held her close, pressing her warm cheek into the slightly sweating hair of her child.

"Mommy…" Lizzie cried into the soft shoulder.

Gordo stood a way's back, watching the reunion between his best friend and fiancé and her mother… his impending mother-in-law. He felt nervousness, yes, but also fear - cloudy, unreadable fear. His palms were perspiring profusely.

Jo suddenly turned her head to Gordo, her arms still wrapped around her eldest child. "Gordo," she acknowledged.

His mouth went dry; the words died on the tip of his tongue. "How are you, Mrs. McGuire?" was all he could manage.

A trace of a smile. "We should be asking how _you _are, Gordo." She strode over to him, and to his surprise, embraced his shaking body. "We are so sorry we ever doubted you." She released him and kissed him on the cheek. Lizzie managed a dilute smile to direct towards him.

"Let's go inside." Jo led them inside, and they were immediately greeted with an assortment of welcomes. Sam instantaneously rushed to his daughter and held her against him, crying, kissing her head, and rocking her back and forth. Roberta and Howard stared openmouthed at the Lizzie and Gordo, for they had never been informed of Lizzie's runaway, and the sight of her walking through the front door with their son surprised them greatly. A loud shriek and a pounding of footsteps introduced Miranda, running, full speed, into Gordo. Rosa came after her, smiling brightly, but also worriedly. Matt appeared at the top of the stairs and rushed down to his sister, embracing her in a monstrous hug, and almost laughing in relief.

After being mobbed by her friends and family, Lizzie returned to Gordo and buried herself against him. His strong, compact arms held her close. Everybody watched this action in amazement except for Matt and Miranda, who just exchanged a knowing smile.

Howard addressed his son, still dazed with confusion and shock. "Where the hell have you been?!"

Gordo faced his father carefully, mouth set, eyes flashing. "Establishing this." He cupped Lizzie's chin in the palm of his hand, smiled at her, and kissed her upturned mouth passionately. She closed her eyes; her gut quivering nervously, her heart beating at a machine-gun pace, she kissed him back just as lustfully, and murmured so he could only hear, "I love you." Gordo deepened the kiss in acknowledgement.

When they finally pulled apart, Howard and Sam were openmouthed. Roberta, Jo, Miranda, Matt, and Rosa could barely contain their smiles.

"Lizzie…" Sam asked his daughter, finally blinking, "W-what is this?"

She smiled tentatively. "Love." Her smile wavered, and she glanced at Gordo for support, "We… Mom, Dad… Gordo and I… we're getting married."

Jo blinked. "Wow."

Sam stared at Gordo. "Lizzie… Gordo…" He took a deep breath. "I honestly don't know what to say."

Gordo spoke. "You don't have to say anything, Mr. McGuire. I love her with all my heart, sir, and I can't imagine my life without her. We… we wouldn't get married right away, you see. Maybe in a few years." He squeezed Lizzie's hand. "We need to go to college. But I know that after that, I'm ready for anything. Any kind of commitment."

He continued. "Mr. McGuire, your daughter is my life, I can't live without her. I know this is hard for you… but… I would be very grateful if you gave us your blessing."

Sam smiled slowly. "First of all, Gordo, call me Sam. And second…" He looked torn. "I… give you my blessing."

Roberta caught her son's eye and her eyes crinkled in the corner like they always did when she was pleased. "David, Jo and I have foretold this for years… and now, I give you all of my blessings. My dear son, you are in love, and religious boundaries cannot conflict with that."

Howard sighed deeply. "I… David… You are an adult, and I love you. I trust you make good choices." His face lightened. "Just a minute." He walked into the other room with a lighthearted smile.

Miranda took this interruption to hug her two best friends tightly. "Oh, I love you two!" she cried through a bucketful of tears. "Just promise me one thing. I want to be a bridesmaid."

Lizzie laughed. "You can be a bridesmaid, Miranda. It's the least I can do."

Miranda smiled wetly, and whispered in Gordo's ear, "And let me prepare the baby shower."

He turned the slightest shade of red, and pulled Lizzie back toward him. She beamed at him.

"I love you," she told him.

"I'm sorry for everything."

"It's over, Gordo. Forget the past. Live the future."

"I promise I'll never let anyone harm you again," he told her fervently. She smiled, blinded by infatuation.

"I know."

**A/N**: Yay! It's over! Did you like it? I did. It was very fun to write.

It took me forever to type though…

Oh well.

Please drop a review! I always appreciate reviews! And, I tweaked the parents a little bit to fit the story. And, to answer everybody's unasked question, Howard went into the other to make a phone call. Remember the police? The police were out looking for Gordo… So, when Howard finally "forgave" his son (for something he didn't do), he told the police that he found the subject of the search, and he was innocent… blah, blah, blah. So basically, he called the police so they wouldn't search anymore for Gordo. Got it? Good!

Please, please, please review! I know I haven't been updating as much, but I swear I've been trying. It's really hard to maintain a good grade AND write stories, you know. … well, at least for me. *shrugs*

Thanks again for supporting this. I love you all!

~Tic-Tac  


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